Hermione doesn’t know why everybody seems to dislike her so much but she has an inkling suspicion it has to do with the strange things that always seem to happen around her. She can’t explain them, she doesn’t understand and neither do they, so they deal with it the only way they see fit.
“She is such a freak!”
“Yes, and such a know-it-all, sucking up to the teachers with her straight A’s, so annoying!”
The loud whispers course through her like a knife through butter. They always make sure she can hear them loud and clear.
They hurt, the words and taunts do. She ignores the stares and pointing fingers as she steps outside hurriedly descending the big stone stairs in front of the school’s Elementary entrance. She looks around for her mum. Her heart sinks when she realizes her mum must be running a bit late.
She squeezes her eyes shut, why today? Her day has been so rough, she can’t stop the tears that spill over. She hurriedly wipes them away to no avail so she just let’s them be as she waits for her mum. Kids are passing her by, no one tells her bye, or wishes her a nice weekend. No one ever does but she is used to it by now. She wants to make herself believe that.
She hurriedly wipes the last of her tears away before almost running up to the dark blue car that just stopped a few feet in front of her. She plasters a smile on her face as she gets in next to her mum who gives her a quick hug.
“How was your day?”
Hermione hesitates but only for a second before smiling even broader.
“It was alright, mum. Learned a lot again today!” She says almost too cheerful, hoping that her mother falls for it. She hasn’t told her parents how bad things are for her at school. They don’t need to know, she always hopes that things will get better after the weekend.
She knows they won’t.
This is an excerpt from one of many drabbles that I have written.
About this drabble and drawing, I firmly believe Hermione was a loner before Hogwarts. Just the fact that she is really insecure under her tough exterior as JK has explained, (here I picture her between ages 8 and 10) somewhere confirms that to me. I have never had to deal with bullying first hand luckily, my sister wasn’t so fortunate. Words hurt, they really do. Luckily my sister had support from us and we could do something about it.